


Day 2: Monster

by Valedoceanlover



Series: dicktigerweek2020 [2]
Category: Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, M/M, Married Couple, Parenthood, Romani Dick Grayson, Tiger is Patron, late to the party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22889209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valedoceanlover/pseuds/Valedoceanlover
Summary: Not all monsters have sharp teeth and claws.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Tiger
Series: dicktigerweek2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642267
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Day 2: Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Dat = Dad (Romani)  
> Meena= Love (Pashto)

“Die, you horrible beast!” 

“Your days of terrorizing this village are over!” 

“I don’t think so you foolish knights. My days of sock stealing and children eating have only just begun!” 

“Knights prepare yourselves. This will be a battle for the ages!” 

“Yes, it will be and once I’m through with you there will be nothing to stop me from eating your families and their toes. Their delicious, delicious toes!” A maniacal laugh cuts through the air. 

“Charge!” Feet pad against the carpet in the living room. Squeals and yells pierce the air as the children and Grayson play. Roshina had invited her friends over for a play date, which quickly turned to a sleepover when Jeremy’s mother informed Grayson that she wouldn’t be able to pick him up in tell really late. Understanding he suggested a sleepover instead, she was grateful and quickly agreed. The other parents were alright with the change of plans and later returned with sleeping bags, pillows and toothbrushes. 

“I have you now, you puny human. Your toes are mine!” Grayson’s distorted voice gives way to over dramatic eating noises. 

“No, Sir Lancelot! I shall avenge you!” 

“You can try!” More running, laughter rings out. Thuds abound as the children attempt to defeat the monster. 

“Ah, you have slain me, you terrible humans. Your vastly superior awesomeness has bested me!” Grayson makes over-dramatic sounds as he ‘dies’. **Thud** He crashes to the floor with one last dramatic breath. 

“Victory is ours!” The children cheer. Their voices blend together in a cacophony informing each other of how their part was the most important in bringing down the monster. 

“Again!” One of them yells. A chorus of agreement, Grayson chuckles. 

“Again? Ok, but first this monster,” He distorts his voice back to that of the monster. “Must quench its thirst with the blood of naughty children!” 

“Ew.” Grayson laughs, a loud smooch as he starts heading for the kitchen. 

“Dat” Roshina whines. 

Feeling a tap on my shoulder and I try to suppress the urge to jump at the sudden contact. I can feel his smug satisfaction at sneaking up on me as he passes to fill a cup of water. “Hm?” I turn to look at him. 

“I’m taping out.” He drains half the glass.” Your turn.” 

“I’m making dinner.” It’s taking longer than I was hoping but the number of mouths to feed has more than doubled, and Grayson’s been doing a good job keeping them distracted from the wait. 

“I’ll take over.” He looks over what I’ve managed to make so far. 

“Meena,” 

“One more tackle and I’m going down, and staying down.” He looks at me pointedly. All his weight is on his right leg; his old knee injury must be acting up again, and is slightly curled over, arm tucked against his ribs. Are they cracked again? 

I grab one of the bar stools and place it in front of the stove. He takes a seat a sigh of relief escaping him. 

I spot the children crawling into the kitchen, whispering loudly about spotting another monster; they almost reach Grayson and his expression turns pleading. 

“Enough. The monster had fled to its cave where it succumbed to its wounds.” 

“But-” Roshina starts. 

“Go find something else to play.” Grayson’s disappointment is clear when I return my attention to him. 

“Now that was monstrous.” Guilt swells. 

“Not as monstrous as your sweater.” I try to deflect. 

* * *

The one I’m wearing is particularly garish, so I refrain from commenting. “Honey, go play with Roshina and her friends, please.” He looks to where they scampered off, yearning and fear clear on his face. 

He drops his gaze.” I don’t, I’m cant…” He sighs. “I’m not you.” 

“I know you’re not, but your daughter will only be seven once. In the blink of an eye she won’t want to spend time with us anymore.” 

He turns his gaze back to the living room. “I just don’t want to mess up.” 

“You won’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“Even if you do, kids can be surprisingly forgiving. When they know you’re trying.” I reassure. 

“I am.” He defends. 

“Does Roshina know that? You’re not exactly home a lot, and when you are, you’re distant, at times.” Guilt tugs at him, most wouldn’t be able to see it. “She doesn’t need you to be perfect Tig, neither of us do.” 

“That’s easy for you to say.” 

“Only because I know what it’s like. Bruce was **far** from perfect or a natural but he tried, and he made sure I knew. Even when his attempts went awry, he never gave up. “

“I’m not, I just,” Words fail him. 

“You don’t have to crawl around with the knights of Camelot. Just be with her. Find something you can do together.” Worry creases his brow. Instinctively I reach up and massage them away. Looking around I check to make sure none of the children are in the room before I slide my hand to cheek. “I love you.” He relaxes into the touch, closing his eyes. 

“I love you too. Tomorrow,” He opens them, their filled with determination. “Tomorrow I’ll play with them.” I wish I could say I believe him but he’s said it before, with the exact same look in his eyes, and nothing has come from it. 

“Thank you. I just don’t want you to have any regrets when…” When this; our family, our home, eventually is torn asunder. 

“I won’t.” I smile. I hope so. He turns back to the stove, and stirs the pan. 

“I said I would take over.” I bump his side reaching for the spoon. 

“You can take over when your ribs are no longer cracked.” I roll my eyes. 

“They’re just bruised.” He gives me a look as to say; Is there a difference? Even though he knows from firsthand experience there is. “I can finish cooking; just go watch them, please. Before they break something.” He sighs and hands it to me. I watch as he leaves, as his eyes soften, and that tiny smile, he never seems to notice forms, when he sees her. 

He may still be out of his comfort zone with her, but he loves her with every fiber of his being. He just needs time, like he did with me. One day, eventually he will sleigh his fears, like the brave little knights of Camelot. 


End file.
